Being Whole
by Andrew's Slinky
Summary: He had never believed in heaven, and now, as he stared forward, all sound lost, he was all too ready to make that leap. Spock/Kirk Prime angst with happy ending.


Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my copies of the newest Trek film and the first two seasons of TOS on DVD.

Summary: He had never believed in heaven, and now, as he stared forward, all sound lost, he was all too ready to make that leap.

A/N: So, I did some research on what happened to the Kirk from the TOS universe, but, without actually seeing the movies and such, I feel I don't really have a strong enough grasp on it to translate well, so, yeah, there won't be a mention of any details from it.

Watching his counterpart with a baby version of Jim Kirk made his heart lurch and ache in his side. It was illogical. It was disturbingly illogical to be effected by the sight of them; still only friends, but their voices softer and more caring towards each other than any other command team in the 'Fleet; for they were not him and his Jim, they were separate entities, with separate pasts, and, in Jim's case, with different eye colors.

To be injured emotionally by the sight of them standing near the transporter pad, just to his left, was illogical.

And yet….

The last time he had been able to see his own Jim, was far too long. In some corner of his mind, he realizes that even if they hadn't been separated, Jim was human, and as such had a much shorter lifespan than his own. He would have been without his Captain, his friend, his t'hy'la, his Jim for many more years than was entirely acceptable.

In fact, if there wasn't New Vulcan to consider, and the younger versions of themselves, he would have gladly followed his t'hy'la into whatever lay ahead without thought. He was walking around on the Enterprise, so similar and yet so foreign, watching history repeat itself with just a few twists, he was smiling in his own secret Vulcan sort of way, he was counseling, and eating, and drinking, and talking, and playing 3-D chess against a mind he used to (and in a way still did) know so well.

But he was dead.

He had died the day his Jim had been taken.

And he would never live again, even as his heart continued to beat steadily in his side.

Sometimes, although it spoke of instability, both mental and emotional, he wished that he had physically died the day his Jim had.

To walk around an animated corpse was much more exhausting.

"Selek?" baby Jim, with his bright blue eyes, looked concerned, watching the older version of his First Office stare at the transport pad with hollow eyes.

Selek, his new name, one he still had small troubles registering, turned to look into the blue eyes and was glad, not for the first time, that as a Vulcan he could control his urge to cry. For gazing into a face so familiar and yet so unlike what he was used to sent something deep inside of him into a violent frenzy of emotion that was clawing its way up his body to lodge in his throat, threatening to explode, threatening to end his Vulcan control and reduce him to a mass of useless flesh and circuitry.

He would prefer death to this agony. For then, and only then, would he no longer be able to feel the acute pain and sharp loss of his Jim.

"Yes?"

His counterpart turned to look at him as well, dark eyes exactly like his own, exactly like his mother's, staring in concern.

"You'll like this, I promise," and there's a barely contained excitement in Jim's voice, barely held back by a control that is impressive for a human and almost other-worldly for James T. Kirk.

He simply nodded his head, certain that he would not like anything anymore. The world held nothing for him without his other half, the part of him that made all of him so much better, the one being in the universe who knew him better than he knew himself. He would feign his own repressed version of emotion for Jim's benefit.

He could not bear any harm coming to Jim, whether it was his own or this version.

Scotty sat at the controls, his own expression carefully controlled.

He began to wonder if, perhaps, they were all in on some joke that he would never understand. What was the purpose of this? The purpose of beaming him aboard the Enterprise for a few days as they orbited New Vulcan; to damage his soul? Well, they were too late, it had been torn in two already. The universe held no more for him, and he had carefully resigned himself to that fate.

His Jim would not appreciate how he had shut down, and yet, without him there to smile and laugh and cajole, without the concern and love in those hazel eyes, he found he did not care.

He felt anger well deep inside his chest. He wished for solitude now. He did not wish for jokes or silent looks passed between two beings who would have so much more time than he and his own Jim could have ever hoped for.

There was the familiar sparkle of gathering particles on the pad and Selek wondered who they were beaming that he was to like so much. He had seen his father, albeit, a Vulcan younger than himself, on the planet, he had spoken to him, informed him of all he had wished to know.

There was no one else in the universe he would have cared to see; they all already existed upon this ship.

Didn't they know that he was dead?

The particles started to become a figure and Spock cursed the lurch his heart danced when they started to make shape. He had imagined seeing his own Jim before, and he was doing it again. Sometimes he damned his eidetic memory. If he didn't have it, he could lose the memories he held of Jim.

And yet, somewhere deep inside, he knew that he would rather tear out his own throat than lose those. They were more precious to him than anything else. They broke his heart and crushed his soul, but in some paradox of cruelty, they also kept him from lying down in the New Vulcan sun and never getting up again.

The particles took color and solidity and then stopped shifting altogether.

He had never believed in heaven, and now, as he stared forward, all sound lost, he was all too ready to make that leap.

He didn't register baby Jim looking over at him with a gleeful smile, or the whoop of Scotty at his successful beaming. He did not see his counterpart's barely contained smile or quirked eyebrow. He didn't see Dr. McCoy entering the room, and cursing softly.

There, in front of him was all he would ever need again. He would no longer need nourishment or oxygen ever again. For it seemed his wish had been fulfilled. He had finally given up his physical body and was with his Jim once more.

He didn't even register his own voice, deep, surprised and happy and sad and angry and hurt and shaky all at once as he stepped forward, his beloved's name tossing into the air from the movement of his tongue.

What he did see was his Jim's hazel eyes sparkling, wet with tears and happiness, shining out at him like a beacon of light in an intense fog. He heard his name being called, crystal clear from the voice he had always wanted, needed, to hear again. He saw the familiar body racing forward, leaping off the pad in a careless arc of joy and hope that nearly toppled him as they hit, the cool heat of his human in his arms once more as those moist, pink lips collided with his own much thinner, dryer ones and at once he was at peace again as he took full advantage of the feel of his t'hy'la once more.

Tongues twirled and danced violently, teeth, cheeks, tongues, lips tasted, familiar and warm and so much more welcoming than any home ever could be. Jim's blonde locks, now grayed considerably, slid through his fingers softly, warmly, so smooth and perfect and right that he ignored his control and let the tears slide down his cheeks.

He felt his Jim pull back far too soon, leaning forward, their foreheads touching, their minds entangling once more, recognizing each other, swimming and dancing in the light of their now bonded forms.

"Spock, sweet Spock, t'hy'la, ashayam, how I've missed you my old friend."

Jim's voice was more perfect than any melody, Vulcan or Terran to his ears.

"Jim," he managed to choke it out, the tears obscuring everything even as his hands shook worse than when he'd gone through Pon Farr, he smoothed them over every available inch of flesh greedily, in a possessive gesture that had never failed to amuse his human.

Jim's hands shook just as badly as they fisted in his hair and he slotted their mouths together again.

His heart beat erratically in his side and he was content to drown in the sensation.

"Spock, I…God, I love you so much," Jim managed to gasp before his lips latched onto the tip of a pointed ear and bit down pointedly.

He let out a yelp and a quiet sigh all at once, never caring if he should be embarrassed by it, he was with Jim now, he had finally given up his physical self and there was no one here to judge him, no one to compare him to the Vulcan standards of propriety, there was only Jim. The only thing that had ever and would ever matter.

"How I have missed you my t'hy'la, my sweet svai, Jim…" he nuzzled the human's cool curve of where neck and shoulder met, nipping at it lightly.

Jim sighed contentedly, happily, hugging him tightly, and spoke, "We should thank them."

Them? Who was this them? An illogical swell of protectiveness and possessiveness swelled through his chest and poured through their bond and he felt Jim shake with silent laughter.

"I see no reason for thanks," he managed through a growl as he tightened his grip around his human and lifted him closer to his chest, holding him there, determined to never release him, not again. If he released Jim, then he could be taken again. He would never allow anything or anyone to take his Jim away from him again.

There was more silent laughter, "Spock, baby," Jim cooed, tugging on a pointed tip of his lover's ear, "they got me here, they helped to save me, they brought us to each other. I'd kiss them if I didn't think you'd go into a Vulcan rage and tear them apart."

For the first time he thought that, perhaps, he hadn't died at all. His chocolate gaze swept the room, baby Jim, his own counterpart, and Dr. McCoy.

Each looked sufficiently embarrassed and shocked, although there was a sort of understanding in his counterpart's eyes.

He was alive.

Jim.

Jim was alive. He…his heartbeat suddenly seemed to echo through the entirety of the room, vibrating through his own chest. The flesh was warm, cool to his standards, and yet, so very warm and encompassing at once.

Alive. His precious Jim was alive.

"Thank you, thank you, my gratitude, words could never express…I…" and he was at a loss of what to say, of what to do, he felt his Jim wiggle a bit, as though to leave his embrace.

No.

He tightened his arms and felt Jim settle against him with a soft sigh.

"Thank you," his human says softly, he receives three identical nods, blushes still evident, understanding already there in one set of eyes, blooming in two others.

For now, it is enough and he starts towards his quarters, Jim still sequestered safely in his embrace. Though, it does make walking difficult, and so he stops, swinging the cool body into his arms, bridal style, knowing it does his Jim's pride no favors, but he needs to get them to his bunk, now.

Jim seems to understand and locked his arms around his t'hy'la's neck, snuggling in closely.

"I love you," he muttered against the dry skin.

He nearly stumbled at finally hearing those words again after so long, but he still has some control over his limbs and smiles softly.

"As I love thee, my Jim."

He is alive once more. In a heaven on a starship. And he doesn't even care that the very thought is illogical.


End file.
